She Might Aswell Be Dead Said Becca
by Scarlett xXx
Summary: I’m not lonely and neither are you because you’ve got me and I’ve got you." - Jack Branning. Rack fic of course : Please read and review!


**From Jack's point of viewing the world. **

Do you ever know what time of day it is? Or are you just counting it down in mindless seconds rather than keeping it? As per usual I wake up in my 'pokey' flat and the same routine commences. (My flat is _not_ pokey by the way!) Not a minute goes by where I don't wonder what you're doing, how you're feeling or what you are thinking about now. Everywhere I turn I see your face because it reminds me that I _do _have a purpose here, I'm trying to save you. You don't know it Ronnie but you help me get through the days, as lonely as they are I always know that in some way, I still hold a tiny piece of your heart which means you will never, ever fade into non-existence.

If the dark suede sofa in the living room catches my eye I don't ponder upon how comfy it is, or how nice the colour looks in the sunlight today. I just remember how you used to sit on it, sometimes slouched back without a care in the world, watching some old film on the TV which I was bound to hate. Your careful hands would cradle the coffee that I made you and whether it was too strong or milky, you wouldn't say anything because _I_ had made it.

It seems like a minute has passed by since I woke up but here I am, about to walk into the Vic. Do you ever recognise me? I come in here every day, hoping and even praying that maybe today is the day we meet eyes and in some unestablished crazy land you fall in love with me all over again. I take my regular stool which has one leg shorter than the rest. I take this crooked stool, perhaps if it collapses and I fall into a heap on the floor you'll see me, and if I'm really, really lucky, a smile will shine across your crestfallen face and lighten my life for weeks. All the arrogant punters may laugh and howl at my stupidity. I'd just say "Hey Ron, how's about that drink?"

It's the same old. Peggy and Roxy are behind the bar with you, both keeping an eye on me, ready to pounce if I so much as ask you how you're doing. Inevitable really after all the heart break I've caused you, but I still say they are hypocrites and I know for a fact that I am more loyal to you than they will ever be. My eyes fixate on you, not peering away just incase I miss you looking over at me, even if it is just for a second. I never see you actually serving anyone Ron. You're behind that bar all day and most of the night and you just stand there, not moving except for the occasional blink, or question from your agitated family, to which you reply those famous words. "I'm fine."

At first you had a hard time convincing yourself that you were normal, in your mind serving drinks to customers, smiling at them, talking and even becoming angry when drunken men try and chat you up. Inside you knew that your presence may as well have been replaced by a statue, but it caused too much pain for you to think of fading away. If you faded away then so did Danielle. Eventually it became like breathing. No one has the guts to destroy that for you, or tell you that you're a little too still.

"I'll have a pint of larger please Ron." I ask you, my voice raised in hope that your ears pick up the waves. Your hand which is placed on your collarbone moves down your body and hangs at your side. If a hot kettle touched your hand you wouldn't move. I didn't expect any reaction, so a light hand movement has made my day and whilst I smile it conceals the desperate man inside.

A few moments later and Roxy hands the drink over. I thank her whilst simultaneously cursing at how selfish she is. She doesn't know how lucky she is to live with you or see you every morning. I would give anything for you.

Before I know it Max, Stacey and Bradley join me. I sigh in frustration, I don't want anyone else, I just want to talk to you. Max pats me on the shoulder, he feels sorry for _us _he told me, a few days back. "She looks dead" Stacey's more than blunt friend Becca says. From the corner of my eye I see Stacey cover Becca's mouth. What are they afraid of? It's not as if you'll hear, and me? Unless it's spoken by you I don't care. "Are you alright?" Max questions, trying to shove his face in front of mine.

_It comes naturally, crashes like a wave and before you can see the consequences, it's all over and done with._

"I'm fine." The words just slip out of my mouth, I know how you feel. Just wanting people to leave you alone and never bother you again because the hurt and upset in their voices is too much to comprehend. The more they ask the easier it is to lie. They're starting to think I've gone off the rails, but they couldn't have been more wrong. I never knew what to live for until I lost you, which is typical and I'm not even going to say that quote about not realising what's in front of you till it's gone. They sense I want to be alone with you, so in a bundle of three they manoeuvre to a table behind, watching, anticipating and prying into my life.

With everything, all the reacent events clogging up in your head, do you even remember who I am? It makes me physically sick knowing that there's a chance you've forgotten my name. Remember when our biggest trouble was trying to get my daughter Penny to like you? You were so worried and scared but I didn't understand why. Petty really, compared with now.

"Ronnie" I say to you softly, leaning on the bar separating us. "It's me, Jack." I finish, stretching my hands, longing to be closer to you. I wait and wait for a response, just something to let me know you're still alive and human.

_I want to hold the hand inside you  
I want to take a breath that's true  
I look to you and I see nothing  
I look to you to see the truth  
You live your life  
You go in shadows  
You'll come apart and you'll go blind  
Some kind of light into your darkness  
Colours your eyes with what's not there._

You turn your head, keeping the rest of your features perfectly guarded, but as your head turns so does my stomach – it's amazing how you do that. "I know." You croak so silently, I wonder how long it's been since you last spoke to someone. With that the rest of you catches up. A mouth that was once a straight, colourless line descends at each corner, but your lips slowly return pink. Your body which was once solid as stone crumbles, leaving you holding onto the bar for support. It's not a big action, but it's something and you're showing emotion, regaining life. Finally, your eyes which were frozen in time, presumably back in the past, begin to thaw.

"Ronnie, would you like to come for a walk with me?" I ask you, trying my best not to get my hopes up.

You spill your heartbreakingly sad eyes into mine. You're amazed that someone has actually tried, I can tell. Reluctantly your head nods and your feet begin to move. All of the locals try not to stare; they haven't seen you move for weeks. The murmur stops, but one person speaks. "At last," Dot Cotton, my stepmother pipes up, "look after her dear."

Stepping out into the freezing cold with you makes me feel warm inside. I take off my jacket, wondering if it's safe for me to wrap it around you, without making you leave. Then you shudder, another sign that slowly but surely, you're healing. I gently place it over your shoulders, worrying slightly that it's too heavy for you. We walk at a slow, steady pace in silence. My head turns to you frequently, I can't help it. We both have things we want to say to each other, but where to begin is the penultimate question.

In between the iron gates constructing an entrance to a little garden square lies a path which glistens as the night's downfall of rain reflects the penetrating sun. It seems almost too obvious to walk there and take a seat at the bench but surprisingly you take the lead and sit down. The bench is still damp, you have my coat to stop the water leaking through but I have to bear with it. I don't give a damn though, I have you.

The loneliest days of my life were when I was in the police force. I worked all day and night, becoming obsessed with cracking the mystery or bringing justice to innocent people. People ask me if I am lonely now. I suppose I can understand why they would ponder upon such question; my children are with their mothers, I run a night club alone and have no girlfriend. I'm not lonely and neither are you because you've got me and I've got you.

The day certainly contrasts the night. The rain which had flooded the square is now a mere memory as the air is bitterly dry. I can feel the breeze crack the skin of my lips and even when I run my tongue across them, they soon oppose my wants. You have your hands in the pockets of my jackets. I smile at this simple action and rub my own hands together to keep me warm. Your eyes burn hot on my skin as I feel you looking at me.

"Here." The wind carries your whisper and the hand you warmed up in the pocket takes mine and invites it into its home.

_Fade into you  
I think it's strange you never knew._

Whilst I know that tomorrow will revert back to the norm, at the end of life it's the memories which is all we have left stored and trapped forever. I know that when I die, that memory in playlist with the rest of you will be on repeat for eternity. _  
_

**Jack's a man, he doesn't describe, so I went for the emotion instead. I have absolutely no idea when in time this was set. A couple of months after Archie's death perhaps? I was bored, so this happened. I was supposed to be writing the last chapter for my other fic but I have a minor mental block on that and I want to get it perfect. Reviews would be great :)**


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